


Habits

by deathishauntedbyhumans



Category: Milo Murphy's Law
Genre: (it's never actually explicitly stated here but that's why he never takes off his glasses o k a y), ??? kinda, Angst, Dakavendish - Freeform, Dakota has Heterchromia, Dakota just needs a hug, Dakota needs all the hugs, Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I blame Jim for like 75 percent of my MML obsession rn, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Inspired By Tumblr, M/M, Mild Blood, Nicknames, Pistachio Protectors, Pulse Checking, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, at least partially, blood mention, brief mention of gore, flangst, i mean we all know what's happening so..., somebody gets shot but it's not Cavendish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 18:39:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12348375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathishauntedbyhumans/pseuds/deathishauntedbyhumans
Summary: Dakota has some habits that Cavendish has noticed from the very beginning, when they were first assigned as partners to one another. One of those habits, in particular, is a little... odd.OR Dakota likes to check Cavendish's pulse because it's comforting to him and Cavendish doesn't understand why.





	Habits

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Island of the Lost Dakotas](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/329583) by boasamishipper. 



> I've fallen into the hellhole that is MML and Dakavendish and I love every second of it. (It's midnight and I'm gonna end up kicking my own ass tomorrow when I wake up exhausted but it will be WORTH IT.)

Vinnie Dakota was one of the strangest men that he had ever known, which was quite the statement, given that they’d quite literally created sentient pistachio plants on one of their only missions to ever go right. (Then again, Balthazar wasn’t exactly certain whether to categorise those things as men, beasts, plants, or something else in between, so he supposed it was a moot statement in the long run.) There had always been little things about him that Balthazar found… odd, to say the least. He tended to eat constantly, for one thing. It had become less of a point of contention for them than it had been in the past, but Balthazar had never understood his consistent need to always have some sort of edible item to shove into his mouth at any given moment.

There was also a strange obsession with those idiotic glasses that he insisted upon wearing. Even when they were indoors, the glasses stayed on, much to Balthazar’s general embarrassment whenever they went anywhere that they should have been dressed nicely for. Dakota was supposed to be the one in charge between the two of them, and yet he dressed like a complete buffoon! Dressing for success was a very important part of getting things done, Balthazar believed that firmly. The fact that Dakota so very obviously  _ didn’t  _ had never made any sense to him at all. 

It seemed that the first few months of pistachio-themed missions had been nothing more than a series of failures, but they  _ had  _ given Balthazar a chance to pick up on all of Dakota’s little habits. (He told himself that it was completely normal to be so attuned to his partner. They were, after all, responsible for keeping each other safe on every mission they went on together. He ignored the little voice in his head --that sounded  _ suspiciously like  _ said partner-- that told him that it was more than just his desire to keep Dakota safe that had him studying those little things he did over and over again.) 

The strangest thing, by far, that Balthazar had noticed seemed to have to do with him specifically. It had started up about a month into their partnership, after a mission that had very nearly gone horribly wrong. They’d been tasked with finding a stash of pistachios hidden away by one Andrew Cooper, a rogue time agent who hated Mr. Block with a vengeance that Balthazar didn’t understand. (Sure, Block was a bit of a difficult man to get along with, but to hate him enough to attempt to completely eradicate pistachios in the twenty-first century all by himself? Simply ridiculous.) Dakota had acted very strange as they’d made their way into the apartment, wide eyes glued to him as though he was going to disappear at any moment. They’d taken a few minutes to hunt for the pistachios, until Dakota flopped onto the couch and then jumped up again immediately as though he’d been burned. 

Balthazar had approached him as Dakota had tugged a cushion up and immediately dropped it to the side to find the pistachios hidden underneath. Elated, he’d sunk to his knees to begin to scoop the packets of pistachios out of the framework of the couch. He hadn’t even realised that they were being watched until the sound of a shot had startled him so badly that he actually swore aloud and whipped around. He’d found Dakota staring  _ coldly  _ at the body of Andrew Cooper lying on the ground, a gun in the other man’s waistband, blood pooling and congealing against the carpeted floor, gushing from a bullet wound in his head. It had very nearly been too much for him. They’d left the apartment without taking the pistachios, and Dakota had called Block to report that someone else needed to fetch them --and Cooper’s body-- because there had been a problem. 

Honestly, Balthazar hadn’t expected Dakota to be so good with a gun. He also hadn’t expected him to kill in cold blood. After they’d gone back to the makeshift office-turned-tiny-apartment that they shared in this time, Dakota had brushed past him and grasped at his wrist, staring down at his hand as he’d done it and then letting go again. He hadn’t said a word. It had happened twice more that night, until he’d finally commented on it and told Dakota that he was alright. Dakota had startled, but they’d gone to sleep without say anything more on the subject. 

After that, it just became another one of Dakota’s odd habits. Checking his pulse became a natural occurrence between the two of them. It wasn’t even necessarily after anything stressful or strange went on that it happened, either. Balthazar might never have questioned it, had he not begun putting two and two together. 

They’d had a day off. It had been a  _ given  _ day off this time, not a day off because of a mission that they’d chosen not to complete. They’d gone to a museum for the first half of the day --Balthazar’s choice of activity-- and then to a laser tag arena for the second half --Dakota’s choice. The day had gone smoothly enough. There were no strange pistachio-themed problems that had popped up, and for once, it seemed that Milo Murphy didn’t have the same agenda as they did. In fact, there was nothing notable at all that really happened until they were walking back from the arena --it was a nice day, and the arena was surprisingly close to their place of residence-- and passing a construction site. A flash of orange from behind the fence caught Balthazar’s attention, but before he could step forward to see what it had been, he found himself tripping, falling forward onto the concrete in front of him. A surprised shout had slipped from him as he’d hit the ground. 

And then Dakota was helping him up, gentle hands tugging him upright and dusting him off. Balthazar had been certain that his face was bright red, and he’d brushed the hands away impatiently and started forward again. 

“Let’s go a different way. I know a shortcut.” Dakota had sounded faux-casual, which was why Balthazar had stopped at all. 

“There aren’t any shortcuts.” He’d started walking again when Dakota grabbed his wrist, pulling him back. 

“Yeah. I know one. C’mon.” And Dakota had all but dragged him through the construction zone, ignoring his protests, one hand clutching his wrist. It was only after they’d made it back and they were both working on their own reports (or, Dakota was doodling and Balthazar was working on a report) for a mission they had yet to write up that he realised that Dakota’s fingers had been pressed to his pulse the entire time he’d led him home. 

He pushed aside the paperwork he was writing and found an empty piece instead. There was something about that habit of Dakota’s, something that was only now striking him as… off. Frowning, he began to write down every single instance of Dakota checking his pulse that he could remember. 

There were… a lot. 

A whole lot. 

Balthazar hadn’t realised it, but Dakota checked his pulse on nearly every mission they went on. He’d done it on multiple occasions around the Murphy boy, and that time they’d eaten hot dogs together on the street, and in the moments before he’d started to play with Brick and Savannah’s equipment and managed to de-age himself…

As the list went on, something didn’t add up. Or rather, something  _ did  _ add up. It made his chest swell and ache at the same time, and when he finally stopped writing and merely stared down at the list he’d made, he was well-aware that he couldn’t keep quiet about it. 

He cared too much about Dakota for that. 

And apparently, Dakota cared for him, too. 

“...Vinnie?” Balthazar immediately cursed himself for sounding too timid in the quiet of the room, cursed the sound of his voice and the way his heart was beating. 

Dakota looked up from the --was that an aeroplane?-- drawing he was adding the finishing touches to, his eyebrows already inching towards his hairline. Again, Balthazar cursed himself for his inability to sound anywhere near  _ normal  _ about such an important subject. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten Dakota off before he could even say his piece. 

“You alright there, Balthy?” Dakota asked, and Balthazar ignored the warmth that bloomed at the ridiculous, Dakota-esque nickname. 

“Yes.” The word came out slowly, carefully. Balthazar cleared his throat. “I was-- I was wondering about the shortcut we took today.” 

“Oh?” Dakota relaxed back into his chair and shrugged. “What about it?” 

Balthazar took a slow, steadying breath. “You were very insistent upon it.” 

“Yeah…?” Dakota shrugged carelessly. “I’m a simple guy, Cav. If I can walk less, I’ll take whatever I can get.” 

“Well, yes, but…” Balthazar considered his next words carefully. “Right. I suppose I’m merely-- I had another question.” 

“Shoot,” Dakota offered, reminding Balthazar uncomfortably of the very first time he’d noticed the habit at all. It was the last thing on his list, underlined once. 

“I’m aware that I can be a bit… reckless, at times.” Watching carefully, Balthazar saw a change in Dakota immediately. His shoulders went tense again, and he began to worry his lip between his teeth. Balthazar willed himself to focus. “I suppose it isn’t so much of a question as it is… an apology.” 

Dakota made a sound that might have been a laugh, had it not been so obviously forced. Any mirth in his face didn’t reach his eyes; even hidden behind those glasses, Dakota’s eyes were beautifully expressive. They always had been. 

“You don’t have to apologise for being you, Cavendish. What’re you gonna do?” Dakota seemed to struggle with something for a moment, and Balthazar took another deep breath, this time to steel himself, and stood from his desk. 

“You worry about me.” It wasn’t a question, and as Balthazar crossed the no-man’s land between their desks, he could see Dakota tensing further. 

He gave another laugh, this one obviously uncomfortable. “I mean…” His gaze flicked down to the floor, and then towards the door, as though gauging the distance. “Yeah. You’re my partner. I gotta--” 

“ _ That’s  _ why you’re always checking my pulse.” 

The words hung in the air for far longer than Balthazar expected them to, while Dakota stared, frozen, at the drawing of the aeroplane in front of him. And then, very quietly, Dakota spoke, his lips barely moving. 

“There’s a lot of things wrong with me, Balthazar. I’ve done a lot of things wrong. Sometimes I just gotta know that you’re still with me, y’know?” A huff of laughter, one that Balthazar would have bet money on being self-deprecating. “That you’re still  _ alive _ .” 

Again, the memory of the Cooper mission floated back to him, and Balthazar found himself wondering what might have happened if Dakota hadn’t shot first, if Cooper had been given a chance to raise his gun. One of them might not be standing there. Balthazar found himself shuddering at the thought. 

“I’m alive.” Slowly, Balthazar reached out, completing that uncrossable distance between them, letting his arm rest on the desk beside the drawing, his wrist turned upwards. To his surprise, he heard Dakota’s breath hitch, and then he was reaching out too, his fingers…

His fingers twining with Balthazar’s own, surprising him and startling him and also feeling more right than anything had in a very long time. Pistachio-themed missions be damned, if this was the reward he got for being stuck at the bottom of the Agency totem pole, he would take it. 

“You’re alive.” Dakota’s voice was thick, and shook with more emotion than Balthazar might have expected. He squeezed the other man’s hand firmly, catching another hitch of breath. 

“I am. And whatever happens, I’m not planning on letting that change.” 

Before he could even really register what was happening, Dakota had let go of his hand had flown around the side of the desk, throwing himself at Balthazar with such force that the both of them nearly fell over. Dakota was trembling, Balthazar realised as he wrapped his arms tightly around him. He was trembling and sniffling and gripping him so tightly that he nearly couldn’t breathe, and Balthazar didn’t know what he’d done wrong. He let Dakota get ahold of himself again, though, held him as the trembling slowly died down and the sniffling became steady puffs of air. 

“You’re alive.” Dakota whispered the words, slowly pulling his head from where it had landed against Balthazar’s chest, and it was all Balthazar could do to nod, unable to even begin to address the pure  _ emotion  _ written over Dakota’s face and clinging to his voice as he spoke. Instead of speaking, he reached out, straightening Dakota’s glasses, which had gone crooked over his nose. 

“I’m alive.” 

One of Dakota’s hands slid from around him to grope clumsily for one of Balthazar’s, and he acquiesced without another word, offering his wrist again. Dakota placed his thumb over the pulse point and laid his ear against Balthazar’s chest, breathing out a sigh of what he could only describe as relief. 

“You’re _alive_.” 

**Author's Note:**

> So! The Andrew Cooper scenario was actually a fic written by the lovely @boasamishipper, and I liked it so much that I ended up using it to explore what happened after Dakota went back in time for the first time to save Cav. I definitely definitely definitely recommend reading that, because it's good and lovely and heart-wrenching. (Although there is Cavendish-death in it, so don't read if that'll be bad for ya.) 
> 
> I've been wanting to writing these two for at least a week or two now, so I'm glad I finally managed to pull some words out of my head. I hope y'all enjoyed it! Remember, comments/kudos are love!


End file.
